Ok, I will admit it. I am pretty cynical. As I have gotten older, I have found myself yelling at the evening news more and more. I read about disabilities and services for those with special needs and I come away more and more jaded. I don’t mean to bring anybody down but does anybody think our society’s attitude towards disability is getting better? And that doesn’t even get into the way those with disabilities interact with services that already exist. From what I can tell, services are costly, and since budgets are stretched everywhere people want to cut services. What I really don’t understand is how the neediest among us are the first to lose services every time! If I look around, I can get myself into a real funk over the state of things. I can blame the current administration or my elected officials; I can accuse them of abandoning us. I can blame the last forty years of Presidents and Congresses, but in the end is that where the blame really lies? I don’t think I am alone in this. I think more and more of us are pessimistic and have become downright sour when we reflect on where we are and where we are going. This forces me to look somewhere new for answers. Before welfare or disability insurance or Social Security were even a gleam in the eye of Franklin Roosevelt, how did anyone in need get help? In those days, we cared for each other in the church. I know things weren’t perfect, but “God’s people” led the way in caring for the needy, and it was their churches that fed the hungry and visited the sick. The church used to be the epicenter of local communities, in some sense the envy of the world. In the name of God we helped the poor and the downtrodden without acclaim or fanfare, because we believed it was the calling of God. It was the mission of the church to feed and clothe and care for all. Jesus commanded us to do so, even to the point of asserting that those who neglect to help the needy do not know God (see Matt. 25 31-46). In the old days, when a neighbor was in need, people stepped up and helped. They raised a barn; they brought food when someone was sick; they comforted, prayed, even corrected. At least this was an ideal they aspired to. Yes it was considered their “Christian” duty, but it was also the right thing to do. They knew that if the Church didn’t fill such needs, no one would, and if they were ever in need it would only be the kindness of others that they could count on.

When our oldest son was born two months premature, my wife and I received a crash course in medical technology.

Seventeen years later, I remember it vividly. Kyle was sequestered for a month in the ICU, a 4 pound 5 ounce boy nestled in the middle of a mass of monitors, wires and tubes. At times, it was an overwhelming situation, but how grateful we were for the miracle of modern technology that kept our son out of danger and, quite literally, alive.

There was wonder and amazement at every turn. How did they know how to measure oxygen with a little light sensor on his finger? Kyle couldn’t speak, but the doctors knew what he needed and how to help him get it. What a tremendous job they did not only helping him to survive – but thrive, too.

Kyle [and his parents] was the beneficiaries of years and years of medical research. In 1900, it wasn’t unusual for some U.S. cities to lose 30% of their newborn infants in the first year of life. Had our son been born years earlier, he likely wouldn’t have made it.

Clearly, the medical profession has made unfathomable strides in just the past few years, let alone in my own lifetime. They seem to be regularly discovering things that once were deemed impossible. Quite literally, many once blind can now see and many once deaf can now hear.

We live in an age of miracles.

Yet, despite these amazing strides, it’s important to be on the alert for groups or companies who regularly use the system to further their own agenda.

I was reading the other day that more than 60 percent of clinical studies are funded by the pharmaceutical and biotech industries. In other words, many of the results we read about are framed and written by marketers who have a chip in the game. If the results of a study are unfavorable, companies often delay – sometimes forever – the release of the information.

Dr. Drummond Rennie is deputy editor of The Journal of the American Medical Association. He recently expressed frustration with this very thing. "This is all about bypassing science,” he said. “Medicine is becoming a sort of Cloud Cuckoo Land, where doctors don't know what papers they can trust in the journals, and the public doesn't know what to believe."

I feel like this month has been one of great contrasts. Maybe it’s just because it’s fall. Because of the altitude here in Colorado, it might be 80 degrees one October day, followed by snow the next. It’s not uncommon to also see this: people walking around in shorts and t-shirts with two feet of snow on the ground. Though the weather hasn’t really started to change drastically, fall is definitely in the air: it is drizzling and cold as I write this.

Two other things I’ve seen recently were also of drastic contrast. One was a link I noticed on a news Web site tucked in between stories about the economy and “Movie Star Drug Rehab Gone Bad.” The headline essentially proclaimed: “Expert believes smothering children compassionate.” In the story was a link to a YouTube video of a woman named Virginia Ironside, who was speaking on a British talk show. In an interview, she explains that she thinks “good mothers” would take a pillow and smother their suffering children. And by suffering, she primarily means children with disabilities.

Although I have never heard of Ms. Ironside, this line of thinking is nothing new. It is the same old story: a child who has a disability must invariably be suffering. According to this (faulty) logic, since a disabled child’s “quality of life” must be terrible, the compassionate thing to do is to get rid of the child. In reality, of course, it’s not only immoral, but a purely selfish thing to do.

(Here is the link to the video so you can see what is being said in the name of “compassion.” click here

Something unusual happened to my wife and me this past Sunday.I’d like to tell you about it.

A complete stranger recognized our son from a video series he had participated in several years ago.

They offered a very kind review of his performance.

In fact, they were probably overly effusive with praise.But they then quickly turned the spotlight on us.

“You guys are doing a great job!” they told my wife and me.

Now, I know the best way to receive a complement is to simply accept it, but the whole thing left me with mixed emotions.

In reality, even though they commented on our parenting, they’re really just letting us know they think our son has an amazing ability to speak in spite of his challenges associated with Cerebral Palsy.

But instead of just accepting the accolade, I found myself squirming uncomfortably.

Why?

It’s probably because I don’t always feel I deserve it and that I’m not doing nearly the job everybody thinks I am.

Secretly – quietly – maybe I’m afraid that we’ll be exposed as delinquent parents.

I thought back to the circumstances surrounding the video shoot.

We agreed to let him partake in the film.

My wife accompanied him to the studio and when they returned, I asked my wife how he had done. Sheepishly, she said she hadn’t been really paying attention.

She was talking to a friend – something that I probably would have done, too, if I had been the one driving that day.

So, when friends started telling us how well he did, we asked for a copy just so we could see what our son had said.

As a father, I am extremely proud of my boy.

He is articulate and forthright.

He is a dynamite communicator!

In many ways, he is wise well beyond his years.

But if I’m honest, I’ll admit that I’m always quite concerned about how he might perform in those settings for one specific reason.

Foolishly, I’m afraid a poor performance will reflect negatively on my parenting.

Ironically, if he does too well, I begin to feel like a phony – that his brilliance really has very little to do with me!